Poem Hunter
LK ( / New Jersey)


Poem By Lazarus Knix

When I rest, I dream of clay-
Towering mountains of unshaped human potential
Wet with the white rain
Of possibilities

I see beauty
In the formless clay-
I see ourselves,
The potential to mold,
The potential to heal,
To redirect the rivers,
To shape our multiple cities with prudence,
To reform ourselves.

I see wonder in the clay
For beauty lies not only within what is,
But in what something has the ability to become.

User Rating: 4,2 / 5 ( 5 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

Man is made of clay. What else can be moulded from it is a bonus of its flexibility. Good poem, Lazarus.
Clay = Humans Very good, Larry.